Detoxification

In a frenzied state,

The barrel of a gun,

His eyes entranced

This not perchance,

The removal of waste

The shifting haste of unexpected new space

Another case of downward spiral,

His indecision, what to do with it—

As if an agitated mule, a distasteful spit,

A defensive kick,

Quit this shit

Preserve the lesser self

He tells himself,

The selfishness of steaming stealth

Most obvious to everyone

Gun pointing

Out into the world

Unfurling curl

Rising from the temples of his head like smoke

Cooking mind

Craters already formed

Seeming deeper

Darker keepers

Of too painful

Truthful secrets

Stored away,

Trigger left

Unclicked

Vultures fleeing the remains of body left unpicked

White sands rolling over

Filling up

The holes in his logic,

A trick the mind has not pulled off,

Soft, smooth undulating calm,

Desert balm,

Buck puts down the gun,

An appearance of grace

Erases grimace

A smile forms upon his face,

Peace,

Inside and out,

The quiet mind,

Sifting through white rolling sands of time,

Texture fine,

A glistened shine,

He has come to appreciate

Like hope and fate

Only looking,

Letting go.